Poisoned by these Fairy Tales
by lilacmermaid33
Summary: An accident at work changes everything for Will and Mac. Will they ever get their happily ever after? (*Co-written with iworkwithpens*).
1. Chapter 1

_Will was sure he had used every phrase in the book to describe her stubborn streak: obstinate, headstrong, intractable. It was at once her most charming as well as her most frustrating trait. The woman was just unbelievably fucking hard-headed. Well, he was hoping she was, anyway. That lighting rig had to weigh a good fifteen pounds._

_He'd heard the sound it made when it connected with her head from across the studio. Who the hell tries to repair overhead lighting when the place is still packed full of employees? Were they trying to kill off the staff?_

_He watched in horror as she lay motionless on the ground, a small pool of blood surrounding her head. She had never seemed so still, so silent in her life. It was unnatural, really, Mackenzie in the studio and not making a sound. He sat near her head and watched in stunned silence as people whirled around him, calling 911 and shouting for help._

_She'll wake up and she'll be fine, his mind told him. This is Mackenzie McHale ... nothing keeps her down for long. Right, Mac? Please wake up and say I'm right, Mackenzie!_

_He had watched as Charlie stiffly climbed into the ambulance that would take Mackenzie to the nearest emergency room. He had to stay behind and finish the show, trying not to wince every time he heard Jim's voice in his ear instead of hers. __He was desperately close to ripping his earpiece out if he heard Jim one more time. Thankfully, the young man finally seemed to realize how much it was disturbing him, and managed to make it through the last fifteen minutes of the broadcast without uttering another sound._

_When he was finally able to get to the hospital, he found Charlie sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands. _

"_Hey, how is she?" he asked. _

"_Upstairs getting a CT scan. They'll let us know when she has a room. Last I heard, she was still unconscious. I'm sure she'll be fine, Will. She's tough." _

_Yeah, he wished she didn't have to keep being so god damned tough. Somebody cut the woman a break already._

_Just then, a nurse found them and directed them toward the fifth floor, where Mackenzie would soon be situated in a room. _

ooo

The first thing she was conscious of was the overwhelming pressure, like her entire head was being crushed inside some enormous vice. It felt like it was about to explode. A feeble, sobbing groan escaped her lips, instantly increasing the agony a hundredfold.

"She's waking up," said a strident voice, the sound reverberating around in her brain like a never-ending loop of the worst acoustic feedback. She recoiled from it, but the voice followed her easily, badgering her, until she couldn't tell where one question ended and another began.

"Too loud," she whimpered, licking her dry lips. Unfortunately, the pain was even worse when the sound came from inside her own head. She could have wept, but something told her that would hurt even more.

The voice, when it came again, was softer, and closer to her ear. "Can you remember your name?"

Name? It was a moment before she even understood the question, and another before she could begin to cast around her mind for a response, the answer swimming away from her several times before she could latch onto it. Name. My name is … "Mackenzie," she whispered at last, breathlessly, her lips moving as little as possible.

Where was she? What happened? Without pausing to think, Mac's natural, insatiable curiosity kicked in and she cracked her eyes open a sliver, but the brightness stung painfully, and she instantly regretted it, slamming them shut once more. Still seeing stars whirling on the inside of her eyelids, the pressure suddenly skyrocketed, and Mac instinctively curled onto her side, retching violently. She could feel a basin being thrust in front of her just in time, and a gentle hand holding her steady.

When she was finished, Mac brought her hands up to her head, in an effort to shield her eyes and ringing ears. They did nothing to block out the sounds of approaching footsteps, and Mac shrank deeper into the bed.

"Mac? Are you in pain?" asked an urgent voice.

"Billy," she moaned, nodding slightly, before she remembered why that was a colossally bad idea. But the fresh wave of dizziness was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the flood of relief she felt. Will was here. There was nothing to worry about now. Whatever had happened, Will would fix this.

ooo

_His head snapped up at the achingly familiar nickname. She had called him Billy just once since she had been back at ACN, and at the time he knew it was really only to get his attention. To make him realize that she didn't want him standing up to the tabloids on her behalf – she was perfectly capable of doing that on her own. No, this time was different. It was the quiet, pleading tone of her voice that tipped him off. It was the way she used to talk to him ... before._

"_Why haven't you given her anything for the pain?" Will harshly whispered at the nurse. _

"_We did, sir. She has a head injury, we have to avoid overmedicating her right now. We can give her something more in a few hours. In the meantime, can someone fill out some of this paperwork for us? And she'll need to list an emergency contact and a medical proxy. So far she's not been able to answer too many questions for us," the nurse informed him. _

_Will watched as Mackenzie burrowed her head further into the pillows, apparently trying to escape the sound of their whispered voices in the small room. It was an action Will remembered well from their days together. She did the same thing when she didn't want to wake up._

_His natural instinct was to grab the papers from the nurse and take care of it all himself. Mackenzie had never been good with the small details of life. Things like balancing checkbooks and remembering doctor's appointments. Those were things he had always taken care of for her before._

_He tried to gather his thoughts and figure out what the hell he should be doing in this situation. His first instinct with Mac was still to act like the supportive boyfriend. God, Habib would have a field day with that one. He realized he was still staring down at the paperwork the nurse was holding when Charlie shook him from his thoughts._

"_Will, stop gaping like a fish and fill out the damn paperwork. She can fix anything that's wrong later," Charlie interrupted his thoughts. _

_Fill out the paperwork. Sure, he could do that. It wasn't like her name or birth date had changed in the last four years. He was sure he could complete most of this. Damn, current medications and date of last period? Good lord, did they ask women that the minute they walked into any medical facility? Was that really relevant to a head injury? And how was he supposed to know if she was on any medication? She used to take the pill… _

ooo

No one spoke for a few minutes after that, the only sound that of a pen scratching on paper. In the quiet, Mac was able to collect herself, focusing on taking long, deep breaths.

Her head continued to pound, and Mac could almost feel her brain swelling larger with every second that passed, expanding but having nowhere for it to go. It made her think of a photograph from a book Will kept on the coffee table, an ancient skull with a large, round hole carved in the back. A hole like that would feel _so_ good right about now.

Unfortunately, the quiet couldn't last, and Will and the nurse were soon whispering once more, something about a medical proxy. Before long, they were back to hounding her directly. "Boyfriend," she mumbled impatiently. "_Billy_," she whined, frowning, when they pressed her.

Why didn't Will just finish filling out the paperwork already? He probably knew the answers better than she did anyway – he paid attention to things like blood type and the particulars of her medical history, when she never had.

At last, Mac felt a pen being pressed into her hand, and she cracked her eyes open once more, just long enough to sign the form. She smiled wanly at Charlie, who was standing quietly at the foot of the bed, but once Will settled into the chair beside her, all thoughts of anyone else were driven from her mind. Her head swimming, Mac reached out for him clumsily, pulling his hand towards her, knowing he would know what she wanted, what she needed. Will _always_ knew.

With one cool hand, Will covered Mac's eyes, blocking out the hospital's dazzlingly bright lights, and she sighed with immediate relief. All too soon, however, she could feel him withdrawing, and she whimpered, trying to burrow back into the comfort of his touch.

"Sorry, Mac," Will whispered, stroking her bangs back from her forehead. "The doctor's here to see you."

Any good that Will's presence had done for Mac's condition was erased in an instant, as the first thing the doctor did was to shine a bright light straight into her eyes. It was only with the greatest willpower that Mac managed to prevent her roiling stomach from rebelling once more.

"Can you remember your name?" the doctor asked, when his physical examination was complete.

Mac squeezed her eyes tightly shut once more, but it didn't help to ease the pain. "Mackenzie McHale," she groaned, the answer coming to her easier now. _Didn't we do this already? Why won't they just leave me alone?_

"Can you tell me today's date?"

That was a little trickier, and her brow furrowed as she dug deep inside for the answer. She reached out blindly, seizing Will's hand once more and pressing it tightly to her forehead.

"Mac?" Will prompted her.

Mac groaned pitifully, her eyes watering from the effort she was exerting. She had always been terrible with trivial things like dates. Trying to remember broadcasts was easier – had they done three shows this week, or four? The weekly international segment, was that on last night's show, or part of the rundown this morning? Will had definitely gone up the street with Charlie for lunch, which made it –

"Thursday," Mac said at last. She unclenched, breathing hard, relieved to have finally hit upon the answer.

But the doctor wasn't satisfied. "What Thursday?" he pressed.

Mac's groan was louder this time, almost a growl. What more did they want from her? The only problem here was the pain, and that would go away if they would just let her sleep, and stop pestering her with idiotic questions. "Thursday, February 16, 2006," she spat impatiently. "The president is George freaking W. Bush. No, I don't remember what happened. Please, please, please stop talking," she whimpered, quickly running out of steam.

Though her head pounded harder than ever, Mac rolled desperately back onto her side, Will's strong hands reaching out to steady her as soon as he realized what she was attempting to do. Mac brought her hands back up to cradle her head, clapping them over her ears this time, to keep out the sound of the doctor's voice, still droning on.

ooo

_Yep, still the same old Mac, he thought … except for that whole five year gap in her memory thing. He would have laughed at her response, if there was anything even remotely humorous about this situation._

_He looked over at Charlie, who seemed to be watching him with a keen interest. Damn, it was almost like watching Mackenzie try to do simple arithmetic. The man seemed to be practically counting on his fingers and figuring out just how awkward this was going to be for the two of them. Just where did Mac's memory place them, relationship-wise? Charlie looked up at him with a resigned grin. Yeah Charlie, laugh it up now ... you're not the one who's going to have to deal with her, but you are going to have to deal with an EP who's stuck a good five years in the past._

_The doctor indicated he would talk to them outside, but Will watched as Mackenzie continued to writhe around in pain on the bed. He really couldn't watch that much longer. _

"_One minute, doc" Will asked, and watched as the young neurologist left the room._

_Mackenzie was pulling her legs up into her chest now and pressing her head into her knees. That couldn't possibly be comfortable. _

"_Mac, stop. You just got knocked unconscious. I don't think pounding your head into your knees is a very good idea right now." _

"_Hurts" she whimpered. _

"_I know it does. In a couple of hours they'll give you something more for the pain. Just try to relax for now, ok?" _

_"Hurts too much, Billy" she whined._

_He couldn't leave her lying there like that. He made his way to the bathroom and soaked a washcloth in cold water and rung it out. He returned to her bedside and draped the cold cloth over her eyes. He began running his hand through her hair softly, watching Charlie grinning at him from the corner of the room._

_You don't get it Charlie, he thought. You see this as fate conspiring to bring us together, just like you tried to do when you brought her here. But dammit, Charlie, this isn't a fucking fairytale! Everything won't magically be repaired between us by a few days spent at her bedside. And are you going to be the one to pick up the pieces when she starts remembering what happened? _

_He watched as Mackenzie's rocking began to ease and he stepped away from her bed, following Charlie out of the room to go talk to the doctor. He turned back and took once more look at her._

_Oh, Mackenzie. This is going to break our hearts all over again._

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**:

Thank you so much for reading! I've never collaborated with anyone before, and I had no idea how this would work when I proposed it, but I've been having SO much fun! If you're curious, I'm mostly writing the sections from Mac's POV, she's writing the sections from Will's, and then we go back and forth forever trying to make them fit! If you like the story, please PM her and tell her so, in addition to leaving a review! :)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE # 2** (from **iworkwithpens**):

It's been surprisingly difficult, but very enjoyable, to try writing a fic with another author who you only collaborate with by email. Many, many thanks to you, LilacMermaid, for doing most of the piecing together of our writing. Be patient with us, readers ... it takes a while to write an entire story, piece by piece, half a continent apart!


	2. Chapter 2

Will made his way out into the hallway and looked around for any sign of Charlie and the young doctor he had just met. He saw them sitting in a small waiting area near the elevators.

He sank into the seat beside Charlie. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.

"We were waiting for you, Will," Charlie replied reassuringly, before they both turned expectantly to the doctor.

"Mr. McAvoy, I'm Dr Ross," the young man said. "I'm the neurologist on call, and I was asked to evaluate Ms. McHale due to her loss of consciousness after her accident. Her initial CT scan showed no bleeding in the brain, which is a good sign. However, it did show swelling in the medial temporal lobe, as well as the cortex."

Will's head was swimming. Did these people know how to speak English, or did they really expect the average adult to understand what the hell they were saying? He knew he was probably _smarter_ than average, and he had absolutely no fucking clue what the man had just told him.

"Please tell me you're either going to explain this in terms I can understand, or you're just going to tell me she'll be fine in the morning? I'll take either option at this point, doc," Will pleaded.

"I'm sorry," Dr Ross apologized. "Let me start again. Mackenzie was struck on the right upper portion of her head and we believe she also struck the temporal portion, which is near her ear, when she hit the floor," he explained.

"I know all that," Will broke in impatiently. He didn't need some doctor telling him what had happened – he had watched it happen as if in slow motion, and his mind's eye had played it over and over again about a hundred times already tonight. He was pretty sure he was never getting that image out of his head. "But what does that actually mean? Why has she lost her memory?"

"The temporal lobe controls many things, but chief among these is long-term memory and auditory perception," the doctor continued. "That's why she is currently experiencing a loss of a rather significant amount of time, as well as why she is so sensitive to sounds right now. So far, she hasn't shown any of the other symptoms that can be associated with trauma to that area."

"Other symptoms? You mean we're supposed to feel lucky that she's only lost five years of her life? Great, let's have a party," Will replied sarcastically. He could feel himself about six seconds away from losing it completely, and he would have risen from the chair and begun pacing the room if a sudden wave of lightheadedness hadn't struck him just then, making the room start to spin.

"Will, could you let the man finish before you start badgering him?" Charlie interrupted, pushing Will back down into the seat he was about to fall out of.

Will turned back to the doctor, trying to focus.

"Well, some patients who experience temporal lobe trauma also have difficulty remembering names and faces, and they have problems with speech and aggression," Dr Ross said. "So far, she doesn't seem to show any confusion about who you both are, and she has verbalized her wishes clearly and concisely. That's a good sign," the doctor assured them.

"Well, that's just great, then," Will snapped. "I'm glad she can still remember who I am … she just can't remember that we broke up four years ago, which will present a little problem when she wants to go home," Will muttered, not sure whether he actually intended the doctor to hear this or not. After all, what the hell did this guy care where Mackenzie went when she was discharged?

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," the doctor said patiently. "It's possible that all this worry is for nothing, we simply don't know yet. We'll keep checking on Mackenzie throughout the night, so by morning we hope to have a clearer picture of what we're dealing with here. If we see no improvement in that time, Ms McHale will have to start being told about her memory loss."

Will blanched. Of course he had known that this development was coming, but the prospect didn't sound any easier than it had when he first walked into Mac's hospital room earlier tonight, only to hear his old nickname on her lips. How do you tell someone that the life she thinks she has is five years out of date? In the realm of news cycles that he and Mac lived in, five years was practically a lifetime.

The doctor saw the stricken expression on Will's face and tried to soften the blow. "We'll start small," he said. "She'll have to be told that she has lost a portion of her memory due to the accident, and that, given time, it is likely to return. Perhaps not every moment of that time, but she probably will regain the majority of those memories. It would be best if someone familiar could be there in the morning, be on hand to answer some of the questions she's bound to have."

"How much?" Will asked desperately, feeling queasy and petrified at the very thought of single-handedly fielding a million of Mac's questions once the shock wore off. "How much do we have to tell her tomorrow?"

Charlie shot him the look his mother had perfected over the years. The one that tells a reluctant ten year old to get their ass upstairs and do their homework because there was no way to avoid certain things in life. But part of Will wanted to pretend they could avoid this.

_Come on, Charlie, _he thought_. Can't we all just pretend the last five years haven't happened? She'll never know the difference. We can go back home and start all over and she can be the Mackenzie who never cheated on me and I can be the Will that never told her to get the hell out of my life. It would all be so much simpler ... so much better_.

If the look on Charlie's face was any indication, however, make-believe was _not_ going to be the way they handled this.

"Take it slowly," Dr. Ross advised. "We don't want to alarm her, or overwhelm her with everything all at once. It's a lot to take in."

Will simply stared back at him, plainly wanting a more substantial, concrete answer from the man who held Mac's life in his hands.

The doctor sighed. "She needs to know certain basic things that will affect her daily life," he elaborated. "Does she still work and live in the same place she did five years ago? Are the same friends and family members still involved in her daily life? These are things she will need to know to function. I don't suggest trying to fill in every event or experience for her … some things she will need to figure out on her own or they will have no meaning. Imagine someone telling you what your whole life experience had been up to this point. Would that make you who you are today?"

He was trying to listen to the doctor, really he was. But a part of Will was still stuck somewhere back in the idea that this whole situation might just pass quickly. That Mackenzie might wake up tomorrow and remember everything. Was there a chapel in this building? Because he was willing to get down on his hands and knees and beg not to have to relive every moment of the past five years with Mackenzie all over again.

"So what do we do if this doesn't resolve itself quickly, doc? Does she go to therapy, take some sort of medication, what?" Will asked, ready to pull out his wallet and throw however much money at this problem as would be necessary to solve it.

"There really is no set protocol for a brain injury," Dr Ross replied. "For those that suffer from speech or motor disabilities, we recommend occupational and speech therapy. But for those who purely suffer memory loss, the treatment options are a little less clearly defined. Really, the best thing for her is to be around family and friends and colleagues. For her to go about her life as normally as possible, and hope that routine begins to help her reach those memories on her own," Dr. Ross concluded.

"That's it? That's what medical science has to offer … just go about your routine and hope she gets better?" Will exclaimed, jumping up out of his chair and pacing the small waiting area.

"Well, she can and should seek out a therapist to help her deal with her confusion and her emotions during this stressful time. But other than that, yes, Mr McAvoy, I'm afraid that is all we can really offer her. She'll be here another two days or so while we monitor the swelling in her brain to make sure there are no further complications. Whomever she is closest to will need to begin preparing to tell her anything she really needs to know before she leaves the hospital."

Charlie looked over at Will once more, to remind him – as if he needed a reminder – that this was his responsibility. _Mackenzie_ was his responsibility right now.

The doctor left them alone in the waiting area and Will looked out the window.

"Go home, Will. There's nothing else we can do tonight. She's going to be fine, that's the important part of all this," Charlie assured Will as he came up behind him and rested a hand on the younger man's arm.

"Easy for you to say, Charlie. You don't have to tell her she can't go home," Will replied sadly.

"Get some sleep, Will. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow," Charlie said quietly as he walked away.

ooo

Will watched later as the streets of New York flew by his taxi window and wondered how the hell his life had ended up so complicated. There was only one answer to that: Mackenzie. She had always made his life more complicated. Whether it was her constant demand for perfection on a story, or her unbelievably bad judgment in relationships, Mackenzie had always complicated his life. Mostly in a good way, he begrudgingly admitted.

Damn, they had just been getting to a point where they really liked each other again. Where working together was a pleasure, not an exercise in torturous self-control. She was his friend again, and more than that, he trusted her. He never thought he'd be able to say that again. How was he going to explain to her that the time between where she was and reality included a hell of a lot of heartbreak?

He paid the cab driver and wearily trudged into his apartment building. He knew sleep would not come easily that night, so he poured himself a scotch and sat in an armchair near the fireplace. He looked around the apartment and tried to remember what she would think was missing.

The couch had been different then. He'd gotten rid of it after the break up. It reeked of her perfume and that had been something he just couldn't take for another minute. The bedroom was mostly the same, except for the duvet and sheets.

It occurred to him then that no place would seem like home to her. Not the apartment she currently lived in … she wouldn't even remember it. And not this place, because it hadn't been her home for years.

Mackenzie had told him once that, as much as she loved having experienced so much of the world as the daughter of an ambassador, she regretted that there was no one place she could call home. It had made her feel rather alone and adrift in the world.

How the hell would she feel now?

ooo

Sleep was elusive and unfulfilling for him that night. He tossed and turned and finally at 5 AM he gave up. He left Jim an email saying he would be in by noon after he had spent some time at the hospital. He showered and shaved, and tried to read the newspaper and watch ACN for a while, but he knew he was just avoiding the inevitable.

He needed to go see Mackenzie and he needed to tell her the truth.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Guys, we are _so_ sorry for how long it's been since we updated this story! For a while it looked like we were going to give up on this one, but the messages we've received from some of you about it have been really encouraging, so we decided to give it another try. I hope you enjoy!

I know that this is a pretty short chapter, but I promise that it sets up what's coming next! This chapter was almost entirely written by Steph (iworkwithpens), with a few paragraphs from me thrown in for good measure.

If you liked this chapter, I hope you'll leave me a review, and send Steph a personal message as well!


	3. Chapter 3

Mac never slept well in hospitals, and the night of the accident was no exception. There were just too many unfamiliar sounds and smells, a lumpy bed that didn't feel right, a room that never grew quite dark enough.

But that wasn't the worst of it, not by far. For months now, a deep ache had been gnawing at her heart like the strongest of hunger pains, growing sharper with every day that passed. Mac had repeatedly brushed the niggling feeling aside, nudging it resolutely back into the shadows, and thrown herself feverishly into her work. It was what she had always done, the only way she knew of to distract herself when she was determined to ignore the signals her body was giving her.

Mac had never made a good patient, and she knew it. She lived in denial for as long as possible whenever she started feeling sick, telling everyone that she was perfectly fine, and then turning right around and pushing herself harder than ever. Running herself ragged only worked for so long, however, and when coming in to work was no longer an option because she could scarcely remain upright, Mac would cloister herself away in her bedroom, shutting off all forms of communication. Swaddling herself in every blanket she possessed, she would lay there, feeling sorry for herself and waiting for it to pass.

Four months ago, everything had changed. Mac had narrowly avoided catching the flu when it first spread through the newsroom like wildfire. Just when everyone else was recovering and returning to work, and Mac was mentally congratulating herself for having a stronger immune system than all the rest of them combined, it had struck her down.

Mac resisted as usual at first, her one concession being that she kept her distance from Will – it simply would not do to have her star anchor catch anything from her. After three days of going home alone, however, Will's worried puppy dog eyes became too much to bear, and she relented, leaving before the morning pitch meeting and promising to take the rest of the week off. She trudged home unhappily, her head feeling like it was stuffed full with cotton, and was sound asleep before her head hit the pillow.

She should have known that Will would not allow her to just go home and recuperate all on her own. He let himself in to her apartment after the show that night, bearing enough orange juice and ginger ale to last her a month, and pulled her, protesting, into his lap. When she finally stopped squirming, he helped Mac to curl herself around him, using his body heat for warmth.

It had been _delicious_, being looked after like that, Will's hands as tender and gentle as she had ever felt them. She would never admit to him that he had been right, but for once in her life, it had been _so_ nice to have someone else calling the shots.

The ache began that night, and tuning it out since then had required denial of a different kind. Last night, however, it had grown acute, settling squarely in her chest, somewhere in the vicinity of her breastbone, and Mac knew that her time had run out. Lying there, lonely and distractionless in the half-darkness, she could no longer imagine it away.

She loved him.

There, she had said it.

It was terrifying to admit it, even only to herself, but it was the truth, she knew that now. She'd never been in love before, so how should she have known how it felt? But what else were you supposed to call it when she simply couldn't stop beaming whenever he was around, and missing him terribly when they were apart? When he wasn't there, the whole world felt a little more empty, a little less bright.

She certainly missed him now, missed him so much that it physically _hurt_. The prospect of sleeping without Will's body beside hers now, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath her ear, was unfathomable.

She hadn't told him yet, though he had been saying it almost since the beginning. He seemed to understand that she wasn't ready and hadn't pushed, but what he didn't know was that her crafty subconscious had been trying to betray her for months. Time and again, she had found the words dancing on the tip of her tongue, scaring her to death, and it had been all she could do to bite them back, her heart racing and her throat as dry as dust. _Not yet_, she thought each time. _Not until I'm sure_.

But being alone last night, frightened and confused and in pain, had been enough to clear Mac's mind, and almost enough to send her over the edge. Twice during the night, she had been on the brink of asking one of the nurses to call Will for her, though visiting hours were long over. He would have done it, too, would have been there in a heartbeat if she asked him to.

_Today_, Mac decided firmly. _Today is the day I'm going to tell him_. A flurry of butterflies instantly began careening around her stomach at the very thought, and Mac knew that there would be no more sleep for her that night, but her mind was made up. And once Mackenzie McHale made a decision, she always saw it through.

For the rest of the night, a thousand thoughts rattled around inside Mac's head as she struggled to find the right words, knowing how much this was going to mean to Will. Add all that emotional turmoil to the pain still pulsating around her skull, and the nurses who kept coming in and checking on her every few hours, going through all the same series of tests and ridiculous questions all over again, and Mac was pretty miserable by the time her breakfast arrived the next morning.

She lay there listlessly as the tray was placed in front of her, already grimacing at the prospect. She generally skipped breakfast at the best of times, though Will liked to tempt her on lazy Sunday mornings, plying her with heaping platefuls of pancakes and French toast. She was reasonably confident that this morning's offering was going to be a far cry from the moan-inducing delicacies that came out of his kitchen.

Apprehensively holding her breath, Mac lifted the cover off the tray to reveal a congealed, gluey bowl of what should have been oatmeal, and slapped the cover down again almost at once, her stomach churning in protest.

She was still taking slow, deep breaths to combat the wave of nausea when Will appeared. He waited in the doorway for a moment, haloed in white like some cheesy soap opera depiction of the afterlife. If Mac's nerves hadn't already been shot to pieces, this observation would have made her giggle uncontrollably. As it was, she was so relieved to see him that she could have wept.

"Billy," she breathed, her whole face lighting up in spite of her exhaustion and fear. "I'm so glad you're here." Moving gingerly, she shifted over to the far side of the bed, making space for Will by her legs and reaching pitifully out to him with both arms.

Much to Mac's dismay, Will didn't join her on the bed, opting instead for the ugly orange chair he had occupied last night. Pouting a little in confusion, she eased onto her side and settled for grabbing hold of his hand. She brought it up to her mouth and kissed it for courage, before resting their joined hands together on her pillow, right beside her head.

"How are you feeling?" Will asked quietly. His face was grey and pained, and Mac could see at once that he hadn't slept any better than she had.

"Better now that you're here," she replied softly, suddenly shy. "I missed you last night." She closed her eyes and focused on the comforting weight of his hand in hers, even as her heartbeat skyrocketed astronomically. Could she really do this? Swallowing hard, blood thundering in her ears, she forged ahead. "Will, I have to tell you something," she whispered. "I should have told you a long time ago, but I was scared. After last night, though, I really need to tell you now … I love you, Will."

ooo

Shit, fuck, bugger … shit! Every perfectly manicured turn of phrase, every eloquent thought Will had ever had suddenly left his mind. And all he was left with, alarmingly, was the vocabulary of an ornery sailor.

_Jesus Christ, Mackenzie! You sure do know how to pick a moment!_ he thought. _Two years together, nearly a decade of knowing each other, and now is the moment you decide to tell me you love me? Is this some sort of cosmic joke?_ How the hell was he supposed to ease into a conversation about amnesia and lost time and the end of their relationship now?!

The only mercy granted to him was that her eyes were still closed. He still had a moment or two to gather his wits about him and try to figure out what to say to the woman who thought she had just told her boyfriend of nearly a year that she loved him. Maybe he could just play along? In her mind, one month from now would be their first anniversary. Maybe if he never let her see a newspaper headline or a calendar again they could keep wandering down this warped version of memory lane, where Mackenzie never knew five years were missing and he never knew she cheated. Hey, if she got to have amnesia, why couldn't he?

Will was brought out of his thoughts when she began squeezing his hand, most likely alarmed that he had said nothing to her sudden declaration of love. He looked down, and saw confusion in her watery eyes. Shit! She was going to cry, and he hated to see her cry.

Just before Mac opened her trembling mouth to question him, Will heard someone approaching Mackenzie's room. Thanking his lucky stars and cursing his cowardice, he took that opportunity to untangle their joined hands and push his chair a little further away from her bed.

"Good morning, Ms McHale," a handsome young man announced as he entered the room. "I'm Dr. Andrews. I understand you injured your head last night?"

_You understand nothing_, Will wanted to say. _She's confused, concussed and disoriented and she just confessed her love for me, about five years too late. Do you have a treatment plan for that, doctor?_

"Yes, I—" Mac broke off abruptly. Will watched her search for answers, before shooting him a questioning frown, her brow furrowed.

"A lighting rig fell on her," he answered, as much to Mackenzie as to the doctor.

"And how are you feeling this morning?" the neurologist questioned.

"Better than last night" Mac replied, though she was still looking a little lost. "My head still hurts, but it's not unbearable if the lights are off and the room is quiet."

_Yeah, and if your boyfriend doesn't look like a deer in the headlights when you tell him you love him_, Will thought. But the doctor probably didn't need to know that part. Will assumed that declarations of love and long-buried feeling of shame and guilt weren't the kinds of things that appeared on medical charts.

The doctor looked at his patient and then at his watch, and began to ask Mackenzie the date.

"Oh for God's sake," she cut him off. "We did this most of yesterday and every hour last night! It is now Friday, February 17th, 2006. How many more times do we have to go over this?" she asked with exasperation.

Will looked at the doctor and then at Mackenzie, running his hand roughly through his hair. He could practically feel the seconds ticking by until the inevitable happened.

"What?!" Mac exploded. "What aren't you telling me? And why the hell are you all looking at me like I might spontaneously combust at any moment? What the fuck is wrong with all of you?" she shouted, then clamped her hands to her head, remembering too late why shouting was such an awful idea when you have a concussion.

"Stop! Stop it Mac," Will murmured, edging closer to the bed and pulling her hands down into her lap. He took a deep breath. "It's not February 17th, Mackenzie" he whispered sadly.

"Ms. McHale, the injury you sustained seems to have left you with a gap in your memory," the doctor offered unhelpfully.

"How much of a gap?" Mackenzie asked, her expression pained. "How long have I been unconscious?"

Her eyes searched out Will's, and he knew he had to be the one to say it. She trusted him, and he had never lied to her before … he wasn't going to start now.

"It isn't 2006, Mackenzie," he choked, his voice rough as sandpaper. "It's April 2011. You're missing the last five years."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Cliffhanger! Sorry, but it was just too perfect to end the chapter there. I wonder what's going to happen next?

Thanks so much for reading … hope you enjoyed it! As always, we love reviews, and please send **iworkwithpens** a message as well!


	4. Chapter 4

At first, the words didn't register. _Five years, that's not so bad_, Mac mused distractedly, far more preoccupied with Will's hurtful, inexplicable rebuff, which had left her feeling raw and sad and more than a little unbalanced. She watched him gaze expectantly at her, a look of pitying dread rolling off him in waves, until she felt like she was drowning in it.

And then it hit her.

The force of the realization struck her squarely in the chest, so hard that her entire body seemed to rattle from the impact. Her thoughts ground to a screeching halt.

Five _years_?

The floor gave a sudden lurch beneath her bed, and Mac tried absently to right herself. It was only when she sensed Will at her side once more, supporting her and helping her to lie back against the pillows, that Mac realized that _she_ was the one who was suddenly unsteady, and not the room around her.

Mac scrabbled for Will's shirt, but faltered clumsily at first, as though every bone in her body had suddenly turned to water. At last, she managed it, grabbing hold of the material at his shoulder and pulling him closer. Her head spinning dangerously, Mac gaped up at him, her eyes watering, for once in her life too stunned for words.

_It's not true_, her dizzy eyes begged him to tell her. _Tell me it's not true_.

But the sea-blue eyes gazing back at her were filled with sorrow and regret, and something else she couldn't identify. He had never been able to lie to her with those eyes.

_I've got to get out of here_, Mac thought at once. A tiny whimper, almost inaudible, escaped her lips, the only hint of the wail that was trapped inside. _Please, please, please get me out of here_.

Ever since Mackenzie was a little girl, she had prided herself on her bravery – almost nothing frightened Mackenzie McHale. The downside was that she had never learned to properly face the very few things she _was_ afraid of, and so she would always run away, as far and as fast as her legs could carry her.

But running was not an option right now, immobilized as she was by overwhelming dizziness and limbs that would not obey even her most urgent commands to flee. She did the next best thing, rolling over onto her side, facing away from them, and curling up into a ball. She brought her hands up to cover her ears, and soon the doctor's droning voice was muddled and far away, like she was listening to him from underwater. After another minute or two, she sensed him leave, the door closing firmly behind him.

_It can't be true, it can't_, Mac panicked, praying that this was all just a bad dream, that she was going to wake from it very soon. _How can this be real? I don't understand._

There was, she was sure, some reasonable explanation for all of it, and she urged her brain to cooperate, but her mind was slow and sluggish, like trying to wade through mud up to her waist. More than once, Mac thought that she was on the verge of making sense of it all, but each time, the notion would slither easily from her grasp. It was like casting a fishing line again and again into an empty lake, only to discover that she had forgotten the bait.

_Five years?_ Mac fretted, her mind continuing to swirl. _What have I missed in five years? Who _am_ I?_ She found herself gasping and choking for breath, and began to see dark spots on the edges of her vision.

It was Will's voice that finally cut through the fog. "Settle down, Mac," he said firmly, after reaching across with his impossibly strong arms and turning her tense body onto her back, pulling her hands down away from her ears. He grasped both of them tightly in his larger ones, rubbing small, rhythmic circles into her skin.

Mac gaped at him, so astonished that she forgot about panicking for the moment. "Settle down?" she demanded incredulously.

The phrase had always served as a kind of code between them, a way to indicate to each other that they were about to fly off the handle unnecessarily, and give them time to rein in their wild emotions. It had saved them more than once in their dealings with inept staffers and the impossible upper management. She couldn't believe he would dare to use it now.

"Will, I've just found out that I've lost the last five years of my life," she exclaimed shrilly. "Are you seriously telling me to settle down right now? Have you lost your mind? No, wait, that's me," she finished, a mirthless, hysterical chuckle escaping her lips as she tried in vain to twist away from him.

"We don't know yet that you've _lost_ your memories," Will corrected calmly, still massaging the backs of her hands. "Head injuries are really unpredictable. You could wake up tomorrow morning with your memory intact, or it could take a few days or weeks, or—"

"Or it might never come back at all," Mac interrupted flatly, wrenching her hands from his grasp and sitting up straight. "Will, come on. What's happened to me in the last five years? You have to tell me everything. Wait – dome of silence – what are you even doing here? Are you telling me we're still together? I'm been in the same relationship for six years? We don't have kids, do we? And my job – my contract's up in 2007, did I re-sign? What about—"

"Mackenzie, slow down," Will begged.

But Mackenzie's brain was firing on all cylinders once more, and once she got going like this, it was next to impossible to rein her in. "Charlie was here last night, wasn't he? So does that mean we're still at ACN?" Mac asked, finally pausing long enough for Will to get a word in edgewise.

ooo

Why was it that Mackenzie could never start anything slowly? She could never wade into the water … she ran headlong toward the waves. She hadn't started with jogging, just for fun and exercise, she immediately began training for a marathon. And, of course, she couldn't possibly ask a few easy questions first … she headed straight for the jugular. The heart of the matter, as it were.

Damn, he had been so sure that he would be able to tell her the truth, but looking at her panicked face now, all he wanted to do was comfort her. His brain told him that there was no time like the present … the sooner the better. He couldn't let her languish in this No Man's Land of Hospital Make-Believe any longer. But his heart told him that the truth would hurt. Quite frankly, the truth sucked, and he didn't want to be the one to crumble the façade she still thought was real.

Would it have been easier to lie? Probably, but he never could lie to her. So, he decided to try lawyer tactics … misdirection and obfuscation. He rationalized that it would be best for all concerned. Her aching head and his delicate heart couldn't handle much more of this today.

"We're still at ACN" Will admitted, reluctantly engaging in this conversation, though he was glad he could say that something hadn't changed. "We have a different show now, but we're still at ACN."

He hesitated. What else could he tell her that wouldn't shake the very foundations of her world? He watched her sink back against her pillows, chewing absently on her fingernails. He reached in reflexively and grabbed her hand, stopping her. And then he froze.

_Why am I doing this?_ he wondered. Why was he actively reaching out to her, touching her in ways he hadn't for years? He tried not to drop her hand like a hot potato, but he was shaken. Shaken by both his cowardice in not telling her the truth the moment she awoke, and by the fact that his traitorous body seemed determined to latch onto her.

"My Dad?" Mackenzie asked quietly, oblivious to his inner struggle. She shot him an anxious gaze. "He was just in the hospital last month, and–"

"Your Dad's fine," Will said, cutting her off before she could get any more worked up. "He's had a couple more scares with his heart over the years, but he's doing well now. He and your Mom were just in town for Easter," he replied, thankful that he knew that much. Were it not for that little spring visit from the McHales, he probably wouldn't have been able to answer that question.

Mac paused to gather her thoughts, and eyed him contemplatively. "You look tired, Will. Rough news week?" she asked, trying to give him a reassuring smile as she reached out toward him. He tried to nonchalantly pull his hand away, making it look like he was reaching for his coffee cup and not recoiling from her touch. She still managed to look hurt, so he settled his hand on her blanketed knee.

"The news never slows down, not even for you Mac, you should know that," he said. "I've been in touch with the office, though, so you don't have to worry about work while you're here. It's all under control," he reassured her, settling back into his chair.

"The election!" Mac shouted suddenly, shooting practically upright in the bed just as Will was beginning to relax and let down his guard. "Will, I've missed the election!"

"You didn't _miss_ it, Mac," he reminded her. "You're just having trouble remembering it right now."

"But who won? Who is the president? Is it Hillary?" she asked hopefully.

"No, she lost to Barack Obama in the primaries," he replied, laughing at her sudden transformation. Even under extreme duress, Mackenzie rallied surprisingly quickly to pump him for information about her beloved American political process. "He's the president now." Will had never been so glad to report a Democrat's win in his life. At least it got her attention away from their rather dicey personal life for a moment.

"Then who's vice-president?" she persisted.

"Joe Biden" he replied, breathing a sigh of relief that she had been momentarily side-tracked.

"Joe Biden? Are you kidding me? The guy who ran in '88?" Mackenzie asked, leaning back and seemingly trying to absorb her new political landscape. It would have been funny, watching die-hard journalist Mackenzie McHale coming to terms with the fact that she knew nothing about the world she lived in, if it wasn't so incredibly fucked up.

"But..." she started to form another question on her lips just as a huge yawn overtook her, and her eyelids began to flicker tiredly.

"But nothing, Mackenzie," Will said. "A Democrat is in the White House and Hillary is Secretary of State. Try to be satisfied with that for the moment, because trust me, when you hear about the Tea Party, the shit is really going to hit the fan" he chuckled. He would take a good laugh wherever and whenever he could get one right now.

"Tea Party? Haven't we done all that before?" she mumbled, trying desperately to stay awake.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, Mac?" he pleaded. He thought he may have sounded a little desperate, but he didn't care. "It's already been a rough morning, and you said yourself that you hardly slept last night."

_Please_, he wanted to say, _please go to sleep, Mac_. _Please don't make me_ _tell you any more today. You're not ready … we're not ready. I'm not sure we ever will be_.

With a little assistance from Will, Mac eased gingerly onto her side, facing him. She offered none of her usual protestations, which showed just how tired she really was. He could see the wheels turning behind those eyes, though. She lay there silently, but Will knew better than to be comforted by the quiet. A silent Mackenzie was always a cause for concern.

ooo

Mac closed her eyes obediently, but her mind continued whirring, even as she let Will tuck the sheet up over her shoulders.

The telltale signs had all been there, if only she'd known to look for them, she realized. Will's face was a little more lined than she remembered, his hair a touch greyer. He was wearing a shirt she didn't recognize, and no winter coat. Still, five _years_…

Mac could see that Will had been trying to keep things light, keep her from worrying, but something was niggling at the back of her mind, and only when she realized what it was did some things begin to fall into place.

"Oh," she sighed wistfully, her eyes sliding open once more.

"What is it?" Will asked, pulling his chair closer to her bed.

"When I told you I love you before, this is why you acted so strange," she whispered sadly. "Because it _wasn't_ the first time I said it, was it?"

Will sighed too. "No, it wasn't," he admitted. His eyes took on a faraway look, and Mac knew that he was remembering.

"When did it really happen?" she asked shyly. It was an intimate question, _too_ intimate, and for an instant she wished she could take it back, but a small, resentful part of her bristled indignantly. _I was there_, she protested. _I was the one who said it, I have the right to know._

There was a long pause, and Mac knew that Will, too, must be thinking about how many things were so very wrong with this situation. "September 2006," he said at last, his voice thick. "Another seven months or so from where you are."

"What?" Mac gasped, trying to sit up again. That couldn't be right. She felt such an overwhelming sense of love for him _right now_, right this very moment. She knew now that she had been feeling it for weeks, months! Another seven months may as well have been a lifetime – what in the world could have made her wait so long to tell him? What could she possibly be missing?

"Mac, don't worry about this now, okay?" Will pleaded, and it was the urgency she heard in his voice that finally persuaded her to lay still. "You're still exhausted, and you'll heal better if you get some rest. I have to stop by the office for a while, but there'll be plenty of time later for us to talk, I promise."

"I'll try," Mac whispered, though she was still stunned, and her heart felt like someone had been scrubbing at it with steel wool. She reached out for Will's hand, threading her fingers through his. "Will you sing for me?" she asked.

Sleep had rarely come easily to Mackenzie, particularly when there was another body in bed with her, and none of her previous boyfriends had known what to do with this information. It had cost her more than a few relationships, but how was she supposed to explain that it was their breathing that unnerved her? Lying there in the darkness, the sound of it preoccupied her thoughts to the point that she simply couldn't relax. Perversely, she also became hyper-aware of the sounds she herself was making, fretting self-consciously all night that she would be loud enough to disturb her partner. It was a nightmare.

Only Will had taken the trouble to understand, and he had been the only one to hit on a solution to the problem: he sang to her. If he cradled her head on his chest and ran his fingers through her hair, by the end of one or two verses of James Taylor, she was always out like a light.

In the last few months, the sound of Will's breathing had actually become a calming noise all on its own, but when Mac was particularly agitated, she still turned to him to sing her to sleep. After the roller-coaster of a morning they had had so far, she definitely needed it now if she had any hope of falling asleep in this hospital.

Will seemed to hesitate for a moment, but soon enough his fingers were tangled gently in her hair, and the soft crooning began. "_In my mind I'm gone to Carolina … can't you see the_ _sunshine?_" he sang. "_Can't you just feel the moonshine? Ain't it just like a friend of mine, to hit me from behind? Yes, I'm gone to Carolina in my mind._"

This had always been one of her favorites, and Mac relaxed almost instantly, waves of tension flooding from her body as she listened. She was on the verge of sleep when Will paused, rousing her just enough to realize what was coming next. She sighed, and nudged her head closer into his touch.

"_There ain't no doubt in no one's mind that love's the finest thing around_," he sang, his voice breaking on the word _love_. Mac's eyes cracked open.

"Will?" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sad that I can't remember saying it," she murmured quietly, her eyes welling with sorrowful tears.

Will squeezed her hand gently. "Sleep, Mackenzie," was all he said, before continuing with the song.

Mac's eyes fell shut once more, and she was asleep within seconds, Will's voice a soothing lullaby in her ears.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

As always, guys, thanks so much for reading! This chapter went through a lot of different drafts, but I think we're finally both happy with how it turned out. I hope you'll leave us a review and let us know what you think! (And a private message to the wonderful **iworkwithpens**!)


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